


The Warmest Night

by mozbee



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Long as shit, M/M, Modern AU, Newt wants what he thinks he can't have, Percival is the man to end all men, Sexual Repression, minor incident mentioned in passing, rape/non con tagged as a precaution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozbee/pseuds/mozbee
Summary: Newt Scamander has never been comfortable with his own sexual desires. In an attempt to 'normalize' himself, he visits a sex shop where, to his horror, he sees his devilishly handsome neighbour, and he does what he can to make sure Percival Graves does not see him there. Naturally, as soon as he's exited the shop he runs right into him. A chance encounter turns into dinner together, which in turn leads to an evening that throws all of Newt's misconceptions out the window.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you can commit to something longer than a meal unlike myself, because this is one long mother. I prefer a solid long piece when I can as opposed to a couple little chunks, just like in the bathroom. You may have noticed the RAPE/NON CON tag, which I added as a precaution; while there is nothing that explicit in this, there is a short mention of a regretted sexual experience, and I don't want it to sneak up on someone who may have a hard time even reading that.

Newt Scamander felt like a criminal.

He had been sitting on a bus stop bench across from Kitty's Closet for well over half an hour now. He'd had to awkwardly wave off two bus drivers in that time that had slowed to a stop at the curb and he wasn't looking forward to doing so a third time. His jacket was pulled up around his ears and he tried to keep his face buried in his collar.

In the half hour he had sat here he had seen men and women of various ages enter and leave the shop, some clutching discreet black bags, and he so wished he could be one of them. Now if he could just muster up the courage to actually go into the shop.

There's nothing wrong with it, he reasoned with himself for the umpteenth time. It's a reputable shop, anyone over 18 is welcome, and it's a perfectly normal thing to do.

Why then, did the mere thought of crossing the street and pulling open the door set his palms sweating and heart racing?

Newt crossed and recrossed his long legs, ignoring the approach of a rowdy group of teenagers heading towards him. Just get up and go, he ordered himself. Like all these normal people who have no qualms about going into what amounts to nothing more than a business, just go!

It was hopeless. He felt glued to the bench. He perked up when the four teenage boys stopped in front of him and he distinctly heard the name of the sex shop in their conversation.

"Miss Kitty threw you out the minute you went in last time, Robbie!" one of them laughed and gave a shorter boy a good natured shove.

"Eh, if he wasn't so baby faced he coulda passed for 18!" said another. The boy in question, Robbie, grinned and flipped the rest of them off.

"Fuck you, I'm the only one who's ever had the balls to even step foot in there!" He looked across the street and shook his head. "That's where I'm taking Lisa for my 18th birthday. Fucking sweet shit in there, man. They got a vibrating tongue ring for her, and holy shit the selection of cock rings..."

Newt felt himself irrationally jealous of some seventeen year old kid who had the nerve to go into a shop that he himself could hardly fathom entering. The bus pulled up then, and the group climbed on, their conversation floating back to him as he shook his head at the bus driver who closed the doors and drove off. Night was falling quickly, and Newt belatedly realized daydreaming on a bench downtown was a very good way to get mugged. He forced himself to his feet, staring at Kitty's Closet before moving down the street, a self berating mantra playing through his head. At the crosswalk he turned, and crossed at the signal rather than carrying on straight which would have led him home. To this day, he doesn't know who it was that abruptly thrust their chest out and strode to the entrance of the sex shop and confidently marched inside, but whoever it was disappeared as soon as they were faced with the reality of the matter, and Newt Scamander found himself in the middle of Kitty's Closet.

There were a few other patrons milling about, most of them alone except for one giggling couple in front of a display of lingerie. The door opened behind him and Newt had to scurry out of the way to avoid being hit by it. He mumbled a quick apology to the older woman that had come in behind him, but she just smiled at him and crossed the shop.

"Hello there," a soft voice suddenly spoke up beside him. Newt all but jumped when he turned and found a petite woman beaming up at him. "First time here?"

Was it that obvious? Newt blushed and tried to focus on her, but there was a display of rather terrifyingly large penises on a shelf at his eye level and it was proving distracting. "Um, y-yes, yes, first time," he managed to squeak out, glancing around to see if any of the other customers were within earshot. The woman nodded and looked about to speak when a loud voice called over.

"Hey Kitty! Didn't you say the new _Pleasures_  was going to be in by today?" It was the older woman who had come in right behind Newt, standing at rotating racks of novels that lined one wall.

"If you need anything, just ask," the woman Newt took to be Kitty told him, and she went over to the other customer. He breathed a sigh of relief, and figured since he'd had the courage to come inside he may as well walk around the place. He studiously avoided making eye contact with the enormous red dildo on the shelf next to his head, and moved over to rows of bottles and jars in a glass display case. He tried to be casual as he perused them, quickly learning they were all lubricants and massage oils. He tried not to react to the pictures on the labels of men straddling women, faces contorted in the rigours of pleasure, mouths hanging open and hair tossed.

Newt sidestepped the giggling couple and found himself face to face with a wall proudly displaying BDS&M accessories. He glanced behind him again, to see if anyone was noticing him, but they were all occupied with their own thing. He turned back to the wall, feeling something stir down south as he took in fluffy handcuffs, and feathered sticks, and a set of what appeared to be nipple clamps, and when he came upon a collar that most certainly was not intended for a dog he spun and crossed the store at a rapid pace, sure his face was lit up like a beacon.

Newt spent a minute hyperventilating in a corner, staring intently at a Sale sign, fighting to keep his tenuous grasp on control. Why had he come in here? It was a horrible idea. He couldn't even accept his own sexual desire in the privacy of his own home, why had he thought flaunting it in a public place would be a good idea? He stayed frozen in the corner for a while, trying to calm his racing heart long enough that he could exit the store without looking like a complete ninny when Kitty came up behind him.

"Are you all right, sir?" she asked. Newt nodded quickly, hoping that would satisfy her and she would leave, but then she took in the wall he was standing in front of and flashed him another brilliant smile. "I see you've found our sale wall! See anything you like? This one has always been a customer favourite," she added, reaching past him to pluck a boxed something from where it hung. She held it out to Newt, and he realized with mortification he was standing in front of dozens upon dozens of vibrating _things_. Discounted vibrating things.

Desperately fighting the urge to turn tail and run, he managed to pull the corners of his mouth back in an imitation of a smile, and took the proffered box from her with a nod while sending her mental persuasions to _leave_. Whether or not it was from his mental prowess or her sense of duty to other customers, she blessedly left, and he looked down at what he held.

And promptly returned it to whence it came upon seeing the words 'deep stimulation'.

That was enough. He felt he couldn't breathe in this store anymore, surrounded as he was by reminders everywhere that he was not normal, that he was perhaps the only person in the world who saw sexual satisfaction as something to be ashamed of, and as he turned to head for the exit, the door to the shop swung open, and Newt ducked for cover behind a row of scantily clad mannequins because tapdancing _Christ_ Percival Graves had just walked in the store.

Newt watched from the confines of lacy red as his neighbour greeted Kitty and made his way across the store like he owned the place. Percival stopped in front of the lubricants, likely picking one out for use with one of his many boyfriends, Newt thought miserably. He had bumped into Percival a time or two in the hall of the condominium building they both lived in, with a stunning man on Percival's arm more often than not. Newt didn't know if Percival qualified as a man whore, per se, but he did know that he had no hope of ever catching the eye of someone like him. Watching him now, Newt allowed a moment of guilty pleasure at seeing Percival in dark jeans and a flattering red shirt, the top two buttons undone to hint at a gleaming, well-toned chest. He wore his signature leather jacket that Newt knew from past experience would smell heavenly, past experience being last winter when Newt had slipped on the slick lobby floor and fallen face first into Percival as he exited the elevator.

If he were to see Newt here of all places, well, the thought itself warranted melting into the ground. The two of them enjoyed a polite friendship, a bit more than glorified acquaintances; if one had the other's mail delivered to his condo accidentally, he would walk it over to the intended's when he was home and they would have a short visit, clearing out once the tea or coffee was finished. Newt found Percival easy to talk to despite the impression he gave off, like he wasn't one for conversation. He had been pleasantly surprised the first time Percival had invited him in; he'd been able to chat with him with ease, something that did not happen often for Newt. Usually he had trouble keeping his words straight in his rush to contribute to a conversation, especially with someone as attractive as Percival. Now he looked forward to spending time with him, however fleeting, because he provided good conversation and he was very easy to look at.

But not here in a sex shop, where if, Newt was sure, Percival saw him he would drop dead of a heart attack before the man could blink. It was all well and good for people to say there was nothing embarrassing about going to an adult store like Kitty's Closet but Newt would never buy it. In this store you could only be here for one thing and that was sexual satisfaction; new ways to pleasure yourself or your partner, and even though Newt had replaced the anonymous person in his limited fantasies with Percival, it did not mean he could stand for Percival to think of him shopping for that reason. Newt had picked this sex shop over the other two in the city for the sole purpose of it being farthest from where he lived and worked. There was less chance of someone he knew seeing him. 

Percival had picked a tall bottle of lubricant off the shelf, and Newt slowly moved along behind the row of mannequins to stay hidden, praying he wouldn't do anything so stupid as to knock into one and topple it over. He stopped when he was safely in the cover of the spinning racks of novels, feigning interest in the smut literature in front of him as Percival grabbed a box of something on his way up to the cash desk. His deep voiced carried to the back of the store as he talked with Kitty, and Newt had a surreal moment while he heard Percival's voice and stared at a very graphic picture of a man on top of another man on the front cover of the book in front of him. He huffed a sigh of relief as Percival finally left, and took a better look at the books.

They all had titles that he couldn't get through without feeling his face flame and looking around guiltily to see if anyone saw him looking. Newt knew all about the magazines like Hustler and Playboy of course, but he hadn't really considered there being actual full length books that appealed to his certain desires. They seemed a better choice for him than dirty pictures; he had internet access at home, but he found it unnerving to type in the kind of phrases required to bring up the pictures he sought. Now faced with them in book form, he was tempted to buy one. He had just picked the only one that didn't have an intimidating photo on the front, called _The_ _Warmest Night_ , and was about to attempt to read the first line without fainting when he noticed Kitty coming out from behind the counter. Panicked at the thought of her loudly giving him some suggestions on the best books, he quickly headed to the cash desk and cut her off.

While Newt waited for her to ring up his book he glanced at the shelf that Percival had stopped at and saw a selection of condoms, more brands and styles than Newt thought possible. He ignored the twist of what most certainly was not jealousy over thinking that Percival must have yet another date, and handed a twenty dollar bill to Kitty. She gave him his change and the book in a small plain black bag and Newt turned and kept himself from running for the exit. Once outside he strode away purposefully, putting as much distance between himself and the shop as possible before he called for a taxi. He had just tucked the shopping bag into his large inner coat pocket when someone suddenly stepped out in front of him and Newt winded himself knocking into a hard elbow.

He stumbled backwards and instinctively apologized, but stopped when the hand steadying him gripped harder and Percival ducked his head into Newt's line of sight. "Are you all right, Newt?" he asked, brow raised in mild concern. Newt quickly patted the outside of his jacket and felt a rush of relief when the outline of the book reassured him it hadn't been jostled out of position.

"Oh yes, fine, thank you. Sorry about that, Percival," he added, giving him a sheepish smile. Percival waved off the apology and shifted his paper bag that Newt just noticed for the first time, and glancing behind Percival saw that he had emerged from a brightly lit liquor store. Newt found himself surreptitiously scanning for Percival's own black bag but didn't see it.

"Are you heading home?" Percival was asking him. Newt forced himself to meet his gaze, commanding himself not to focus on the bare patch of skin that was peeking out at him, sculpted collarbones hinted at in the low light outside of the liquor store. He nodded in answer to Percival's query, who then asked, "can I offer you a ride?" and Newt felt a childish thrill run through him at the idea of ten minutes in a confined space with a fine smelling man, and before his thoughts could get more ridiculous he gratefully accepted. He followed Percival the short distance to a sleek black car parked perfectly parallel at the curb and climbed into the passenger seat, rolling his eyes at Percival's exaggerated opening of his door and bowing him in. The car started with a low rumble, and soon Percival was maneuvering them expertly through the rush hour traffic. The book Newt had purchased remained a secret weight in his coat, and in the quiet interior of Percival's car, faintly smelling of cologne, he found himself looking forward to reading it when he got home after a quick dinner. _The Warmest Night_ had a tantalizing cover, of two men standing bare chested with an island background, backlit by a shining full moon. Newt could imagine reading it and still smelling Percival, and the image of the two men changed into Newt standing close to Percival, moonlight gleaming off a broad chest, an island breeze ruffling their hair...

Newt pulled himself back to the present when he realized Percival had spoken and he hadn't heard a word of it. He was mortified to feel himself slightly aroused, and silently thanked God that his coat was long and bulky. Good lord he really was repressed if a vague image in his mind could get him to this state. "Sorry, what was that?"

Percival smiled at his absentmindedness and repeated, "how was work for you this week?"

"Oh! Um, fine. It was...fine," Newt finished rather lamely. His work on the animal sanctuary was something he enjoyed immensely, but he was finding his tongue thick and uncooperative being so close to Percival. He had his left arm resting on the seat, and it was brushed gently by Percival's right every time he changed gears.

"Any new arrivals?"

"Yes, actually, an emu!" Newt said, thinking back to the bird that had come in on Wednesday from an overcrowded zoo. The emu, a good natured female Newt had taken to calling Emma, had chronic pneumonia and the zoo's owner had apologetically explained he couldn't afford to keep treating her while she showed no signs of improvement. She had only been at the sanctuary for two days but, Newt explained to Percival, he had hope for her. He just realized he had nattered on for the better part of the trip when they turned into the laneway that led to the underground parking complex for their condominium. As soon as the car was parked, Percival's cell phone rang and Newt was left to awkwardly wonder if he should get out of the car and head upstairs on his own or wait for the call to finish. The book was starting to feel like it would burn a hole in his pocket.

"Grant, how are you?" Percival motioned for Newt to wait. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. No, it's no problem. Give me a call when you're feeling better." Percival hung up and twisted around to reach for the paper bag in the backseat. The clink of wine bottles was distinctive in the quiet car. Newt had just reached for the door handle when a warm hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to look questioningly at Percival, who was leaning over the gear shift and looking straight at Newt. "Do you have anything planned for the evening, Newt? My dinner plans were just cancelled, and I've had a roast in the slow cooker since this morning." He pulled his arm back and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's too much for one person."

Newt felt that familiar thrill run through him at the thought of time with Percival in his elegant condo, but a helpful voice inside his head piped up to point out he was only inviting Newt over because he'd had plans with another man and simply didn't want the food to go to waste. He knew he would never be the sort of man Percival would consider romantically; he fell far short of the strapping men with firm athletic builds that he had seen him with, and he certainly would never be the sexual partner Percival deserved, but dammit he would take a pity dinner when it was offered.

"I'd love to," he told Percival with a shy smile, and Percival brightened. They were soon crossing the parking garage to the elevators, Newt obsessively checking his smut book was still safely lodged in his pocket when, as they entered the elevator and Percival reached to hit the button for the fourteenth floor, Newt caught a glimpse of the black bag swinging behind the paper bag. He couldn't help his quick gasp and quickly turned his gaze to the flashing indicator, not noticing Percival raising an eyebrow as he asked if everything was all right. Newt nodded and tossed him an awkward grin.

Percival looked at his watch. "The roast should be done by now," he said as the elevator stopped smoothly on their floor. "Would you like to come inside with me, or do you need to stop by your place first?" They walked down the hall towards their condos, 1401 and 1410, last two on either side of the hall. Newt cast his mind back to his day at work and remembered the billy goat slobbering on him at the noon feeding.

"I should have a quick shower first, the remnants of work are sticking to me," he said with a grin, but upon reaching his condo he realized with a sinking feeling that his keys were not in his pocket. Nor the other three, which meant..."I left my keys at work," he groaned, leaning his head despondently against his door. He sighed at thinking of going to the superintendent and borrowing the spare; Mr Leroy was a pleasant enough man but Friday nights he had his condo crammed with rowdy beer drinking friends that made it hard for a soft spoken man like Newt to be heard, and he hated repeating himself. Percival grinned and shrugged, shifting his bags to one arm as he sorted through his own keys.

"You're more than welcome to shower in my place," he offered, unlocking his door. Newt's mind hollered an immediate yes and he had to clamp down on his tongue before he voiced it.

"Oh, n-no, I really couldn't impose, and, um," he cast about for another reason why he shouldn't be naked behind closed doors with Percival, "I've got no change of clothes, so..." Percival swung the door open and waved Newt in behind him.

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition, and you can borrow some of my clothes in the meantime." Newt hesitated, the smell of roast beef wafting out in a tantalizing manner, and, sensing he was weakening, Percival added, "saves you having to pay Mr Leroy a visit." He entered the condo, leaving the door wide in invitation, and Newt hesitated a few seconds more before all but charging in. He fairly slammed the door shut behind him, lest he lose his nerve. Inside, the condo was as neat and tidy as it ever was, the rich brandy coloured furniture in the living room  looking cozy as usual, bookshelves packed full. Newt had a brief glimpse of the black bag placed on one of the bar stools before the other man stood in front of him.

"Take your coat?" And here Newt's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, picturing Percival seeing the black bag sticking out of the inner pocket and recognizing it for its place of business. He fought to keep his face from heating up as he desperately sought a reason to keep Percival from taking his coat, and settled on laughing awkwardly and telling him he didn't need to wait on Newt.

"You've got dinner to tend to anyways, don't you?" Newt asked as he sidestepped Percival and his outstretched hand. He opened the closet door and fumbled to pull a hanger out, making sure not to look at Percival as he carefully slid it through the sleeves of his jacket, keeping the pocket with the book turned inwards. He turned in time to see the bemused expression on Percival's face and quickly said "about that shower...?" to hopefully distract him from dwelling on anything. He followed Percival down the short hall to the master bedroom, wondering why they were bypassing the three piece guest bathroom.

"Renos," Percival said by way of explanation, inclining his head at the closed bathroom door. Newt had no time to process that because he was suddenly walking into Percival's very own bedroom. He steadfastly kept his gaze away from the four poster bed with deep navy coverings that most certainly would not make an appearance the next time he indulged in a fantasy and followed Percival into the en suite, a mirror image of his own: a deep jacuzzi tub dominating one corner and a shower stall with a marble backsplash in another. Percival motioned to a folded terrycloth robe on a wicker towel stand. "I'll grab you some clothes--oh shit, the asparagus," he cursed as a smoke alarm sounded in the condo. "Take your time!" he called as he dashed out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

Newt allowed himself an indulgent moment to examine the various jars neatly lining the bathroom counter, a couple hairstyling gels that had him grinning and then the holy grail: a small green bottle of cologne. Newt pretended he didn't snatch it up and tear the lid off to inhale deeply. Good lord that was a rich smell. He glanced at the label, dimly noting the smoke alarm had shut off, and read _Dark Allure_ on the side of it, and found himself nodding in agreement. Then he thought of Percival catching him creeping on his personal hygiene products and he bottled the cologne and began to strip. He left his dirty clothes in a neat pile on the edge of the tub and turned the shower on.

Warm water flowed out almost immediately, and soon Newt stood under the spray, vigorously scrubbing himself with a bar of soap before reaching for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge. A puddle of thick red settled on his hand, and as he massaged it into his scalp he giddily realized he was going to smell as Percival did. He firmly told his cock no as it tried to perk up at the thought, and as he shut the water off and rubbed himself dry with the robe, reminded himself of the stool sample he had examined from the billy goat earlier that day. Sufficiently calmed down, he tightened the belt around the robe and then realized that there were no clean clothes in the bathroom with him, Percival no doubt distracted by the smoke alarm earlier. Newt spent an uncomfortable moment fidgeting in the bathroom, catching sight of himself in the fogged mirror and feeling like he would die if Percival saw him.

But after another minute of clean clothes not miraculously appearing and a double check that his clothes were indeed too soiled to pull back on unless he wanted to make his shower moot, he resigned himself to seeking Percival out. After a quick glance that nothing of his would be mistakenly exposed in the robe, he went off to the kitchen. Percival was just laying out the dinnerware at the table when Newt entered and cleared his throat timidly. Percival turned, and faltered as he took in the sight of Newt in nothing but a bathrobe. For what felt like the trillionth time today his cheeks heated up; he must look such an idiot to stop Percival in his tracks like that.

"Um, I was just wondering..."he trailed off as Percival slowly crossed the room, staring intently at Newt who dropped his gaze to the approaching man's knees. "Just needed clothes," he mumbled as Percival came to a stop in front of him. Realization flashed across his features and he made a show of slapping himself on the forehead.

"Sorry, Newt, it completely slipped my mind. Come on, back to the bedroom," he ordered, and grabbed Newt by the shoulders and spun him around, ushering him to his room and leaving him by the door while he searched his wardrobe for clothing that would fit. They were close in height but Newt was much slimmer in the shoulders and hips. Percival held out a pair of black pants and a long sleeved black shirt. He pulled a pair of socks and a belt from a dresser drawer and added them to the pile Newt held, then flashed him a quick smile. “Dinner is ready when you are,” he said, then left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Newt dressed quickly, taking a moment to appreciate how soft the borrowed shirt was, then hung the damp robe on a hook in the bathroom after giving his hair a quick tousling. His hair would be damp for dinner but it was fine and wouldn’t be sopping for the meal. He briefly entertained the notion of borrowing some _Dark Allure_ but knew he wouldn’t really. He didn’t like thinking that he had made Percival uncomfortable emerging in only a robe but it had been that or hide in the bathroom til he came looking for him.

In the kitchen, Percival was laying a plate of the asparagus he had apparently saved next to a serving platter heaped with savoury beef doused in a sauce that smelled divine. He lit two candles in the middle of the table, then pulled a chair out for Newt. “If you would be so kind,” he smiled, that same mischievous glint in his eye that had been present earlier when he escorted Newt into his car.

“Thank you,” Newt said as he sat down. His chair was pushed closer to the table, and Percival hovered at his elbow.

“Would you like red or white wine? Or something stronger, or just water, or—“ Percival offered, and Newt considered what he would be least likely to cough back up. Water was his preferred drink but this felt like a special occasion, calling for a mature drink.

“Wine,” he chose. “Whichever you’re having,” he added before Percival could ask. Percival expertly uncorked the bottle of white wine he had just purchased and poured Newt a glass. Newt realized belatedly that Percival had set two places beside each other, rather than at opposite ends of the table, and was acutely aware of how close they were sitting once Percival had gotten settled. He set about serving Newt a generous portion of beef, and raised the plate of asparagus questioningly. At Newt’s nod he added a few to his plate, some to his own, then set the plate down and raised his wine glass. Newt nearly knocked his over when he realized Percival was offering a toast, and raised it as well.

“To…fortuitous cancellations,” Percival said with a smile, and Newt obligingly tapped his glass with his own before taking a sip of wine, and sternly told himself not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that flooded his tongue. “So,” Percival began, deftly cutting his meat and asparagus in smooth strokes of his knife, “where exactly does an emu pop up from?”

Newt quickly finished chewing the beef, which was flavour soaked and tender, and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin next to his plate. “Do you know the Hillman Zoo, on the outskirts of town?” Percival nodded. “Mr Hillman recently added an emu habitat, but I’m afraid he was a bit pre-emptive in bringing in the animals. It was too many, too soon. Emma had just finished rearing a clutch of eggs on her own, because her mate unfortunately died at their old zoo. I think the stress of losing her mate, and moving to a new home so soon after nesting took its toll on her and she hasn’t had the energy to fight the pneumonia effectively, and Mr Hillman’s knowledge of emus is rather lacking.” Newt shrugged his shoulders, braving another sip of wine. “I gave him a crash course in the basics, but I’ll be going to the zoo next week for a couple days to work on some of his penning issues among others. And I think I more than answered your question,” Newt realized, angrily stabbing at buttered asparagus on his plate. “I’m sorry. How was your week?”

Percival seemed to struggle to answer. “Uh, fine, but Newt,” he waited til Newt looked up from his plate, “what are you apologizing for?”

“Running my mouth like I always do!” Newt winced at how shrill he sounded, and forced a deep breath. “I mean, I tend to drag on when I start talking, about anything really, and forget to give someone else a chance to talk.” He shrugged again. “Bad habit. I’m trying to break it, really.”

For the fourth time in an hour, Percival touched him, laying a big hand on top of Newt’s smaller one. “I ask you questions because I want to hear what you have to say. Your job is infinitely more interesting than anyone else’s I know, and besides,” he ran his thumb across Newt’s wrist, “I like listening to you speak.”

Newt didn’t know what to say to that, staring intently at the wine in his glass until Percival removed his hand. He was both disappointed and relieved at the loss of contact; feeling someone like Percival touch him tenderly like that filled him with a dizzying dose of lust but also heartache, knowing that was all he could have, whether with Percival or someone else. On a good day he could fill his head with filthy fantasies, and work himself up enough so that when he masturbated he climaxed rather quickly, even if he felt guilty about it when he hurriedly cleaned up the mess he left behind. Most of the time though, he would feel lust stirring in his loins and an uncomfortable pit of tension would build in his stomach. He’d think of the passionate kisses he had seen in romantic movies, and couldn’t fathom being on the end of one. Or he would think of being pinned to a bed by a strong handsome man, maybe one who smelled of _Dark Allure_ , and he would shake his head roughly to cast out the image. It just felt wrong, for whatever reason. Like he was thinking of things he wasn’t allowed to. He felt like an outsider in his own body.

Newt knew he was not the sort of person made for a romantic relationship. That would entail acknowledging deep feelings for another person, and he didn’t think he had that in him. It would also mean, at some point, being physical, intimate, with another person, and that was something Newt knew he didn’t have in him. Lately, yes, he had given the man in his fantasies Percival’s voice, face, but it made him tense when he saw the man in the elevator or coming and going from his condo. Afraid, too, like Percival would somehow find out his deepest darkest thoughts and tell him off. Newt couldn’t help himself though. Since meeting Percival he had a better idea of the kind of man he would like to be with, and every day he reminded himself that he would only have Percival in his mind. A man like him, suave and confident, had no time for a wheedling virgin.

“Would you like some more wine?” Percival was asking him, looking for all the world like the silence after his touch was no big deal. Newt couldn’t help the small grimace that surfaced; Percival laughed at that. “I had an inkling you weren’t the biggest wine fan, and perhaps just accepted so as not to hurt my feelings.”

“No!” Newt was quick to say, afraid he would offend Percival, but he wilted under the mock glare being directed towards him so he sighed heavily and came clean. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had, but neither is it the best. No, thank you,” he added when his host offered him more food. The roast had been amazingly flavoured and succulent; he couldn’t recall when he last enjoyed a meal as much. He insisted on helping clear the table, and once the leftover beef was packed away Newt faltered. What came after dinner? If he were Grant, Newt supposed, this would be the part where Percival lay on the charm and seduce him. Or maybe it was just understood between the two of them that sex followed dinner. Newt’s eyes drifted to the bar stool where that black bag sat quietly, which in turn reminded him of his own purchase, and then remembered imagining himself with Percival on the cover, and then all of a sudden there was a hand on his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Sorry Newt,” Percival apologized, but Newt could hear the grin in his voice. “I was curious, would you like to join me in an after dinner scotch? It’s a tradition long ago instilled in me by my father.” Newt contemplated for a minute before nodding. Scotch was not a drink he was familiar with; on his 21st birthday his older brother had given him his first alcoholic beverage, a rye and ginger, and Newt had enjoyed it. Mostly. Enough so he decided to stick to it as his drink of choice because he had such a hard time finding a liquor he could swallow and keep down, and it was a favourite since. It always reminded Newt of his brother, something he held onto in their long months of separation. But perhaps it was time to try something new.

At Percival’s direction Newt went to sit in the living room. He sat on one end of the couch while Percival poured their drinks in the kitchen, and admired the view of the city; their condos were on opposite sides of the building, and this was a view Newt didn’t get very much. Fourteen floors away the evening traffic lit up congested highways, endless taillights and headlights winding their way between skyscrapers and looping around the memorial park that lay in the heart of the city.

Percival sat next to him and handed him a tumbler full of what looked like honey. Newt thanked him and took an experimental drink, eyes going wide at how it seemed to warm him instantly, leaving a thickness on his tongue and burning in his throat. After the debacle with the wine he wanted to prove he could handle alcohol, so he took another, longer drink on the tail end of his first. The ice cubes bumping on his lip rattled pleasantly as he lowered the glass, and then he noticed Percival fixing him with that faintly amused look that seemed to be his default setting when dealing with Newt.

“I didn’t realize you were such a lover.” Newt choked on his last swallow, eyes widening. Where had that—“I never would have taken you to be one who downs a glass of liquor like that.” Newt tried to be subtle as he wiped a drop of scotch from his mouth.

“It’s quite rich, isn’t it?” Newt asked, trying to act as though he didn’t feel he had just swallowed fire. Percival swirled his own before taking a drink, and shared a secret smile with him.

“It’s absolutely terrible the first time you drink it.” He pursed his lips as he took another sip. “It’s pretty terrible the hundredth time you have it, too.” Newt laughed at that, wondering why he would drink it so often, and voiced his query. Percival shrugged. “It’s a manly thing, I’m afraid, and I am nothing more than a sheep, following the trends of society.” He set his tumbler on the coffee table and suggested “how about some music?” and Newt nodded eagerly. It could prove good conversation if he were to falter.

Newt’s limbs felt heavier than normal, an after effect of his drink. He was comfortable on the couch until Percival sat back down closer than he had before. He was hyper aware of a warm thigh next to his, realizing he could faintly hear Percival breathing over the music that played softly, and he tightened his grip on his drink before gulping the rest of it down in one go.

“Is that Benny Goodman?” He asked, ears perking up as the music suddenly swelled. Percival looked surprised that Newt had identified it.

“Yes, it is,” he smiled at Newt. “I don’t know many people who know music from that era.”

Newt shrugged, leaning back against the thick cushion as the scotch spread through him. “That sort of music is all my parents listen to, ever since I was a boy. Theseus tried to get my mother hooked on Elton John, just for some variety, but she never bit.”

“Theseus, your…older brother?”

Newt nodded. “Six years older.” Percival was sitting back against the couch now as well, looking rather alluring in his dark red shirt still with the top two buttons open. He spun the ice cubes in his glass and swallowed the last bit, then reached for Newt’s own empty tumbler and offered another drink. Newt hesitated a moment before agreeing. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t drawing a bit of courage from the liquor, and the ball of nerves that had been fluttering in his gut had ceased. True, he’d been to Percival’s before, but they had always had a visit at the island or dining room table, not sitting next to one another on the couch. He didn’t want to ruin the evening by clamming up just because he felt a bit out of his element.

And if he was toying with the idea of pretending this was a date between the two of them, like if Percival had invited him over purposely and not because he needed someone to help eat a meal that could have gone to waste otherwise, well, the liquor was helping him maintain that with a straight face. He couldn’t imagine many opportunities like tonight in his future, least of all with a person like Percival, so he was going to shape it as he wished so he had something to hold onto.

Percival sat as close to him as before, handing his drink over and settling back against the couch. Newt had to turn a snort into a cough when the voice in his head suggested Percival looked _darkly alluring._ He waved off concern and as he sipped his drink said, “I see in the paper that you’ve had a busy week at work.”

Percival groaned and shook his head. “That’s putting it nicely. This whole mess with Stewart is proving to be much more of a problem than we initially thought. The guy had his fingers in everything.”

Newt nodded in sympathy. He knew Percival’s work with the police ethics board was a high profile one; he was the head of the team of retired police officers, government workers, and private civilians that investigated cases of police officers alleged to have misused their professional power, such as if one was caught taking bribes and allowing a criminal organization to continue to fly under the radar, like in this particular case.

“You and the police chief, hmm?”

Newt burst out laughing at the look of mortification on Percival’s face. He fought it back as Percival glowered before sighing and covering his eyes with his hand. “Everyone really did hear about it, then.”

“When you call the chief of police a pompous jackass, it tends to make the rounds in the media,” Newt grinned. Percival shook his head again and took a long drink.

“That’s something I won’t live down for a while,” he muttered. Then he grinned. “Although that pales in comparison to the disagreement I had with the governor at last year’s budget meeting.” As Percival settled into his tale, and Newt worked his way through his drink, he slowly began to become aware of something. Percival was facing him head on, his whole body turned towards Newt’s as he spoke. He was making sure to make eye contact with Newt whenever Newt looked up, and his eyes dropped to Newt’s lips when he asked a question. Add that to Percival touching his hand at dinner, and how often he said his name, and Newt felt like he was seeing ‘Tips for Flirting’ played out live before him.

But that was ridiculous; Percival would not have that kind of interest in him of all people. Newt leaned forward and set his glass on the table, Percival following suit. “You have a much nicer view from your balcony than I do,” Newt remarked, looking out the floor to ceiling windows once more. Percival made a sound of disbelief and leaned forward and closer, to look out as well, as though it wasn’t something he saw every day.

“A sliver of Memorial Park and miles of traffic?”

Newt nodded, and abruptly stood and rested a hand on the cool glass. “I like the juxtaposition. The concrete jungle with a haven in the middle of it all. It reminds me of New York City.” Percival had come to stand next to him, bringing with him a refreshing reminder of his cologne.

“You’ve been to New York?”

“Yes, with Theseus. About, oh, five years ago now I suppose. Just before I moved here.”

“And what did you think of the city?” asked Percival, his arm hanging loosely at his side, brushing against Newt’s every so often. Newt sighed happily at the memory.

“Good lord, where do I start? The city itself seems to breathe like a living entity; the atmosphere is indescribable. A city of millions but never crowded. Every day things are far from mundane, as though the city lends an energy to everything that takes place. And the culture! I don’t just mean the theatres, but the thousands of vendors on the street from every corner of the world, offering every kind of food and drink imaginable, and then some. And the cyclists in Central Park, and a museum on every corner to recall wonders of mankind, great and small. It just,” Newt cast around for a way to coherently express his love for the city, “it just kicks ass. In every way possible.”

Percival laughed at that, and said, “Why then, do you not live there instead of here? It sounds like quite the love affair.”

Newt shook his head, hypnotized by the endless line of taillights that shone bright in the dark down below. “I couldn’t live there.”

“Why not?”

Newt let out a great huff of air, and turned a rueful smile on his host. “All of that, on a daily basis, would be far too overstimulating for someone like me.”

Percival looked puzzled. “What do you mean ‘someone like you’?”

Newt scoffed good naturedly, waving a hand at himself vaguely. “I’m not exactly a big city kind of person. Too many people pressing around you, it’s not good for you if you aren’t the sort of person who gets along with people. It’s very much a social city. Lovely to visit, though.”

“I would think in a city so big it would be easy to remain anonymous.”

“I am anonymous in every city I live in,” Newt said thoughtfully, “with practiced ease. I think it would feel too much of a chore to live like that in New York of all places.” Just as suddenly as he had stood, he turned and dropped back onto the couch, sighing happily as the plush cushions seemed to reach up to embrace him.

“And why do you say you live anonymously?” Percival asked. Instead of returning to the couch, he slid a matching ottoman from its place in front of an armchair over and sat on that, Newt tucking his legs up under himself on the couch to make room.

He considered the question carefully, even as the scotch ran honeyed fingers through the tendrils in his mind, seeking to distract him, to try to focus his attention on the way Percival’s eyes glittered in the low light of the room, how his dark hair sat swept to the side, the familiar music filling him and leaving him at ease despite the nature of the query. “I do not make friends lightly, or often. I find it hard to find people I like, who, more importantly, can tolerate me. I spend much of my time alone in my home, where I’m most comfortable, where I can be myself without worry as to how I appear to another.”

Percival contemplated him silently for a moment, and Newt, emboldened, held his gaze, until Percival reached out and laid a hand on his knee where it was folded against himself, and said seriously, “I consider you my friend, Newt, and I am glad you do not live anonymously where I am concerned.”

To which Newt eloquently answered, “are you hitting on me?” because the voice in his head had screamed that incredulously and the filter between brain and tongue was momentarily absent, which caused Percival to sit a bit straighter, though he left his hand where it was. He smiled at Newt, warm and slow.

“And if I am?” he asked, voice lilting, one eyebrow half raised as though in challenge. Newt grinned back, and leaned forward until he was inches from Percival’s face.

“Then I’d say you were missing your date more than I thought.”

“What do you mean by that?” Percival sat back, slowly drawing his hand away with him. Newt rolled his eyes and gave Percival a playful shove on the arm.

“This is the part of the evening where you and, Grant, was it, would fall to the ‘adult’ portion of your date, is it not? Wined and dined then,” and here Newt winked exaggeratedly, and chuckled. “Despite not doing it myself I do know what goes on between two people on a date, and I imagine your sexual tension is rising with no outlet for it in sight.”

Percival was looking at Newt with an odd expression on his face, as though one of them was on a different planet from the other. He rubbed his chin for a minute in thought, then hesitantly began, “I didn’t mean to make you feel as though you were a last resort. I apologize if that’s how you feel, and I understand why you might, but Newt,” he fixed his eyes on Newt once more, “I am more than pleased with having you here tonight.”

Newt heard the words for what they were, simply Percival going out of his way to be nice. He appreciated it, not too many people took the time to consider his feelings. He smiled at Percival to show no hard feelings, then stood. “I should probably get to Mr Leroy and get into my place for the night,” he said, fighting down the warring emotions running through him: bright hope that perhaps Percival was hinting at what Newt thought he was hinting at, and abject fear that Percival was hinting at what Newt thought he was hinting at.

“Wait, please,” Percival said, standing as well and catching Newt’s wrist in a loose grip. Newt turned to face him, his heart starting to beat faster without his permission. Percival’s face was so open, earnest. “I’m trying to tell you that I find you attractive, Newt, and wholly interesting as a person, and someone I would like to get to know better, on a more personal level. I’m doing a rather terrible job of it, I think.”

The voice in Newt’s head that was usually so opinionated was silent, perhaps as shocked as Newt was. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, because he had clearly misheard something. Percival kept his grip on Newt’s wrist, his eyes on Newt as though in an effort to gauge his reaction. Newt personally wondered about his own reaction as well, because he was drawing a blank presently.

His drink addled brain did its best to list the facts, and they stood thusly: Percival Graves, a man who oozed sexual prowess, had just suggested he would like to get to know Newt ‘on a more personal level’; Percival Graves, devastatingly handsome, had said he considered Newt attractive; Percival Graves, a top rated specimen if there ever was one, could not be serious, so

“This is a joke, right?” Newt asked flatly, tugging his wrist free from Percival. He crossed his arms, some undefinable emotion bubbling inside of him. Percival frowned.

“Why would I joke about this?”

“Well, it’s either a joke, or you think I can replace your sexual partner for the evening,” Newt bit out. Percival backed up, shaking his head slightly.

“I…would never think that, Newt. I would never think of you as merely a replacement, or someone to use for my own sexual gratification.” He was still staring at Newt, who only held his arms tighter across his chest. He spoke uncertainly now. “Is it really so unfathomable for you to think I harbour romantic feelings for you?”

“Well, yes!” Newt cried, throwing his hands up. “I mean, you, of all people!”

“'Me, of all people'? I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Newt was starting to feel sick, and overwhelmed by all he was hearing and feeling. “Come on, Percival. You’re only the most attractive man in the whole bloody city. You have your pick of all the runners up; I’ve seen you with nothing but one gorgeous man after another.” Newt stalked over to the front closet and pulled his jacket from the hanger. “I’m sorry if I find it hard to believe you would give someone like me a second glance, an inexperienced,” he tugged the jacket on, “immature twig.” He had to lean against the door for balance as he bent to pull his shoes on, and in one smooth motion the black bag fell from his inner pocket and landed with a distinct thwap on the floor. Newt snatched it up instantly and shot Percival a glare from where he hovered near the door looking thunderstruck. “And that’s none of your business!” He angrily shoved the bag back into his pocket and opened the door. “Thank you for dinner.”

He stormed down the hall towards the elevators, angry with himself and the way the night had turned out. He had let his hopes up and that once again proved to be his downfall. He was supposed to be the one rooted in reality, firmly aware of his own limitations, the impression people had of him. Not act like an idiot, putting himself in a situation he didn’t know how to navigate. His eyes were watery, a common side effect when he was terribly angry as he was now, and he roughly wiped away the threatening tears. A hand caught his as he reached for the elevator’s call button, and he tore it free and turned a glare on Percival.

“Newt, I don’t know what to say,” Percival spoke urgently, as though Newt would disappear in an instant. “I _like_ you, for how you are and how you act and for the first thing I noticed, how you look.” He looked distraught, anxious. “I swear I am not making fun of you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but please don’t think for a second that I’m not being sincere when I tell you this.” He ducked his head in an effort to see Newt’s face; he’d tucked his chin down and remained fixated on the floor. The call button remained untouched.

From what Newt knew about Percival, which was not much, he had never exhibited a cruel side to his personality. They’d had nothing but pleasant conversations when they passed, and Newt had read high praise for the man’s professional side, holding his standards of morals and ethics up as an example for the rest of the city to strive towards. Which meant, he was realizing with an unpleasant feeling washing over him, that perhaps he had projected his own insecurities on Percival, when faced with an evening such as the one he had just had.

“Newt.” His tone was soft, almost pleading. “Will you please come back inside with me? I think perhaps there are some things needing clarification, and the hallway doesn’t seem like the best place to attempt that.”

“I don’t want to,” Newt admitted quietly, “only because I’ve made a complete fool of myself in front of you.”

Percival slowly, cautiously, reached out and rested his hand lightly on Newt’s tense shoulder. “You haven’t,” he said carefully. “I don’t think any less of you, for what it’s worth.” They stood in silence, neither moving, save for Newt chewing his lip anxiously. He did want to go back with Percival, he realized with faint surprise. Internally he was in turmoil, mind and heart racing, unable to weigh the pros and cons as he liked to do when faced with a dilemma. For the first time, he listened to what his gut was telling him.

He nodded at Percival. “All right.” Percival graced him with a relieved smile, and his hand dropped away. He led the way back to his condo, Newt trailing just behind, afraid to wonder what the next ten minutes held.

He sat back in his place on the couch, with his coat still wrapped around him. He felt anxious, a bit scared, of what was to come. He didn’t know if he was capable of having an honest discussion about something so personal as _feelings_ with anyone else.

Percival sat in the armchair beside the couch, and regarded Newt for a long minute, as though he didn’t know where to start. Well, Newt had no inkling of that either, and he wasn’t one hundred per cent certain on what Percival had meant by ‘clarifying some things’, and he didn’t want to be the one to speak first lest he screw up.

“I sort of suspected that you perhaps hadn’t had much experience with dating and relationships when we were first getting to know each other,” Percival began.

“I just give off that air, don’t I?” Newt interjected, frowning at the coffee table. From the corner of his eye he saw Percival shake his head.

“It was mostly because no matter how blatantly I flirted with you, you never seemed to pick up on it.” Newt blinked in surprise.

“When did you—“

Percival chuckled. “I don’t have a list in chronological order but the answer is many times. You never responded, so I took it to mean you weren’t interested.” He leaned forward on his chair. “There is something about you, Newt. Some…untouched quality. I don’t mean _physically_ untouched,” he added hurriedly at Newt’s face, “more like…”he sighed. “Look. In my job, I have to be able to read people. I need to have a basic understanding of who someone is as a person within five minutes of meeting them. I always trust my instincts, and they’ve served me well my whole life.

“When I first met you, I could tell you were unlike anyone I had known before. Who you are as a person always intrigued me because I could never get a good grasp on it. You present yourself as simple, uncomplicated, but I knew there was more to it.”

Newt huffed. “You make me seem like some fascinating puzzle,” he muttered. He wiped his palms along the rough outside of his coat, slightly sweaty as they were. “The truth is…” he glanced at Percival then away again, and shrugged miserably. “I’m not made for a relationship. I’ve never dated—“he felt his face heat up at the pathetic admission “—and I had an… _encounter_ in college that sort of put me off getting close with someone.”

Restless, he stood, facing the window again, looking to Memorial Park and the lights spread through it, small specks from this distance. He picked at the pearl button on his coat, feeling uncomfortable with the topic. He turned and looked at Percival who thankfully remained seated. “I like you, Percival,” he blurted, speaking quickly before he lost his courage. “But I am incapable of discussing things like that with someone, I can hardly admit it to myself, and I feel sick at the thought of it, like it isn’t allowed.

“Even now I feel so awkward and uncomfortable saying this to you. It’s taking everything in me to stand here and speak of it.” Newt turned back to look outside, the sight of Percival causing him to wilt. “My brother has called it my ‘emotional constipation’. My inability to talk about being angry or happy or sad on a personal level with someone has overpowered me my whole life. I…”he glanced at Percival from the corner of his eye. “I do like you, Percival, but I am afraid we could never…have a relationship, if that was what you were meaning earlier.”

Newt kept his gaze fixed firmly on the traffic below, heart pounding at all he had said. If he could, he would turn and dash out just as before, feeling embarrassed by his speech. He tensed when Percival stood from his chair but did not approach Newt.

“You say you’ve never been in a relationship before.” Newt nodded even though it required no response. “How can you tell me you could never have one with me when you don’t know what it would entail?”

“I’m not _stupid_ ,” he scoffed, frowning at his reflection in the glass. “I know what a relationship is. it’s meeting someone you want to have sex with so you take an interest in them as a person and go on dates until you sleep together and once there’s nothing left to learn you just screw each other til someone better, newer comes along so you can start all over again.” He didn’t know why his voice had trembled through his definition; he cleared his throat but said nothing more.

“It seems to me as though someone has shaped your very skewed idea of a relationship,” Percival said quietly. “I don’t mean to pry, but was this perhaps a result from the ‘encounter’ in college you spoke of?”

Newt felt his gut twist in shame, in anger. It wasn’t something he could just talk about so casually, airing his dirty laundry in front of someone so put together as Percival; his own _brother_ knew nothing about it. And yet, when he sat back on the edge of the couch, that was exactly the story his lips started to tell.

“It was someone I knew from around campus. Gil,” Newt began, and faltered at that name forming on his own tongue. “He…took an interest in the biology course I was in. Asked me about it whenever he saw me in the cafeteria or library. We became…friends. He started inviting me over to the apartment he lived in. After I’d gone once or twice, he started to suggest things to me. Said he…” Newt trailed off, feeling embarrassment rising in him once again. How had he been so naïve?

Percival had sat down again as well, close without pushing. “He said he liked the way I looked,” Newt gritted out, “and no one had ever told me that before, I didn’t have a reason to think he was lying, and we were already friends and I didn’t really think anything was wrong with doing what he wanted. I hate,” he said lowly, grabbing fistfuls of his coat, “that I will always have that memory of him being the first person I _kissed_. Of him being the only man I ever—“ Newt cut himself off. How could he tell Percival that he had let Gil touch him so intimately, had taken a dick in his mouth, let Gil say the filthy things he did while Newt sucked him off.

He slammed his fist into his thigh, hard. “All he had was a _dirty fucking mattress_  on the floor, and I let him use me!” he cried. And then that was it. He couldn’t believe he had said it in front of another person, and he was a swirling bundle of emotion, anger and disgust and regret. He couldn’t stand to be next to Percival any longer, so he stood and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t—“ and he moved quickly from the couch.

Not quick enough, it turned out, because Percival had stood and stepped around the coffee table in an instant. He stood in front of Newt, and Newt felt a surge of panic because he was on the brink of tears as he always was when he dwelt too long on the business with Gil. He did _not_ want to cry in front of Percival, didn’t need another reason for the man to think him pathetic, and he tried to push past him, but Percival was tall and broad and didn’t so much as sway when Newt put his hands on his chest to try to move him out of his way.

“Please, move,” Newt managed, voice shaking. He wanted nothing more than to be alone. Percival stood firm. A flare in temper hit him and Newt suddenly shoved as hard as he could. “Percival, move, _please_.” The man was a rock. Frustrated, Newt’s vision grew blurry as tears surged upwards and onwards and he was seriously considering swiping at Percival’s face when something unexpected happened. Percival lifted his arms and settled his hands on Newt’s shoulders. He tensed, breath hitching as he stood frozen, unsure of what to do, when Percival stepped forward and brought his hands down to wrap them around Newt. He pulled Newt tightly against him, hands a steady weight on his back, and said,

“I’m sorry.”

Newt was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. His lips trembled with the effort of holding back, but with the feel of comforting hands on him, and a steady body in front of him emanating care and compassion, it wasn’t long before he was crying freely, hating it as much as he found relief in it. A gentle hand on the back of his head pressed it into a wide shoulder, and he let himself reach up and hug back.

Newt had no thought as to how sloppy a crier he was while he laid his head on Percival’s shoulder, feeling only warm hands that rubbed his back, a body in front of him that sought only to lend support, to give, not take. He cried for how he had lived for so long, ashamed of his past and what he had let happen in his inexperience. He cried because he didn’t know if he would ever be able to look back and not hate himself, if he would ever be able to look ahead and see himself as someone worth more than a sexual partner. He cried because in this moment, holding and being held, he thought he could see what a relationship could truly be.

Newt became aware of a low rumble, almost a purr, emanating from Percival’s chest, and as his breathing calmed and eyes cleared, choked back an almost-laugh. “Are you… _humming_?”

He had pulled back, and Percival let him, but he kept his arms around Newt, lower, hovering just above his waist. He gave Newt a small smile. “It always helped me when I was upset and my mother would hold me,” he explained. He directed them to sit on the couch, and left one hand to rub soothingly on Newt’s back. He produced a tissue from nowhere and wordlessly handed it to Newt, who swiped at the wet trails on his cheeks before blowing his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Newt muttered, hunched where he sat, worrying the balled up tissue in his fingers. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I didn’t think I--“

He fell silent when Percival spoke. “Newt, let me be clear: you have no cause to apologize. You never have to apologize for your feelings, not with me, not with anyone. There is _nothing_ to feel shame for, to be embarrassed about. Hear me?”

Newt nodded, enjoying the feel of the hand on his back. He sighed. “It’s just, you probably think something horrible happened with the way I carried on, but he didn’t, I mean I was never _r-raped_  or anything.”

“Rape is not the sole traumatizing sexual experience,” Percival said softly.

“I just, I feel so inadequate,” Newt admitted. “I mean, I’m almost thirty, and I have the sexual history of a teenager. It’s not something that endears me to another person my age. And then I see someone like you, who seems to have a different man every week, and I can’t help but compare myself to you. Yet the thought of dating someone terrifies me, because I know he’ll expect sex and even if I could push myself into the act I would seem like a complete wanker for having no idea about what to do.”

“You should never feel as though you have to force yourself to have sex,” Percival said, voice firm, “rather it should be something you genuinely want and are even looking forward to. I won’t say you have to be in love with someone before you have sex with them, but it does add to the whole experience. And before you say anything, there’s a difference between a one night stand and being with someone you know intimately on every level,” he added, seeing the quirk of Newt’s eyebrow.

“You know,” Percival continued, “I know it’s not the same, but I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was twenty two, because up until then I lived at home with my parents. I saw my friends moving out on their own when they were eighteen, driving cars, all years before I did any of that. There is no norm when it comes to each individual person. There’s nothing weird or wrong with you being a virgin at this point in life, Newt. Everybody goes at their own pace.”

“It would just be a matter of finding someone like you who thinks the same,” Newt said, head spinning by all he was taking in. Percival nudged him, and when he looked to him saw a teasing grin on his face.

“What do you mean someone _like_ me? Aren’t I good enough?”

Newt blushed, looking quickly down to his knees again. “You’re more than good enough, Percival. But I’m afraid you would soon tire of me and my… _hesitance._ ”

“Would you look at me for a minute, Newt?” Percival asked, and, heart thudding, Newt turned so he was face to face with Percival. He held one of Newt’s hands between both of his. “It’s true that I have had my share of partners, and yes, it’s generally one night together with the main intent being sex, but none of them are men I would want to share my every day life with. None of them are men I would look forward to seeing as much as I could. None of them are men who invigorate me so much with a simple conversation. None of them are you, Newt, and you are worth the wait.”

Newt felt breathless, like he had hollowed out completely, like in the pit of his stomach a tremulous flame of hope dared to burn. “I know you say that now, but what if, months from now, we still aren’t, still haven’t…and you’ve lost the patience to wait?”

“Then I would not be the man I have prided myself on being my whole life,” Percival said seriously, holding Newt’s gaze. “To be in a relationship is to trust another person, maybe to a degree that scares you, but I can promise you now that if you were to put that trust in me, you would never regret it.”

Newt’s eyes fell to the sight of his hand wrapped in Percival’s, a warmth filling him as he considered the words spoken. He already did trust Percival to some extent; he had to, otherwise he would have been gone long ago. He had exposed so much of himself in this evening with him, and yet he did not feel like he had been mistaken in doing so. There was a part of him that whispered still that the issue of sexual intimacy would prove a hurdle, but Percival had said otherwise, and Newt found himself believing him.

They sat in a pleasant silence, the music ended some time ago, and then Newt was abruptly caught up in a huge yawn. He gave Percival a sheepish grin. “It’s been a long day,” he excused himself.

“Tell me about it, _stud_.”

Percival laughed at the look on Newt’s face. “I would not have expected you to be a Greaser,” Newt said, grinning at him. Percival stood up, pulling Newt with him.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” he winked. “Now. I would like to offer you the guest room so you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

Newt nodded slowly. “I would like that very much, I think.” He followed Percival down the hall once he had locked his front door and turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room. Newt felt his heart jump when he was led by the hand to the guest room. He stood in the doorway while Percival turned the bed down and fluffed up the pillows, before turning on the squat lamp on the bedside table.

“As good as you look wearing my clothes, I’ll get you something more comfortable to sleep in,” said Percival, giving his arm a light squeeze as he sidled past him. Newt, face warm from the comment, sat on the edge of the bed closest to the window, and watched what little of the world outside he could see. The bed sank as Percival sat next to him, handing over a pair of black sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. “I like how you look in black,” he shrugged at Newt’s look. “I’ve never seen you wear it before, you know.”

He stood and stretched, and turned a small smile onto Newt. “I’ll see you in the morning. Think about what you might like for breakfast, then after I can take you to pick up your keys from work if you like.”

“Thank you,” Newt said, and after a moment’s hesitation, Percival just smiled again and nodded, then left, shutting the door behind him. As Newt changed, he replayed as much of the evening’s conversation as he could recall, alternating between the words Percival had said, and his tone of voice, and

“ _Mmm,_ ” Newt sighed as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, the scent of Percival’s cologne clinging to the fabric. He sniffed deeply as he walked to the guest bathroom, flicking the light on and noticing the dismantled shower stall in the corner, a bag of tools neatly packed away amidst a drifting of drywall. He had forgotten about this bathroom being renovated, and paused when he had a vision of using the toilet and flushing it and causing a massive flood. After a moment, he turned and walked the short distance to the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he knocked lightly.

“Percival?”

A garbled voice called out, and Newt slowly pushed the door father open. Percival came out of the en suite, brushing his teeth, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and, oh, _nothing else._ Newt sternly ordered his jaw to remain hinged at the sight of a well toned chest, muscles rippling underneath, and he realized his fantasies had been woefully lacking.

“I just needed to, er, I mean, the other washroom is being renovated, right?” he asked, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady in the face of adversity. Percival nodded and waved him over, disappearing back into the washroom, and as Newt timidly walked in he was straightening from over the sink, dropping his toothbrush in a holder and wiping his mouth on a small towel. He bent suddenly, and rummaged through the cupboard under the sink, then stood and opened the topmost drawer of the vanity. He triumphantly handed Newt a new toothbrush, bright yellow in cardboard packaging.

Then grabbed it back. “Least I can do,” he grinned as he tore the packaging off and handed the newly liberated toothbrush back. When the door closed behind him, Newt stood for a moment, staring at the toothbrush in hand before rousing himself and putting a generous dollop of toothpaste on the bristles. As he attended to his oral hygiene, he watched himself in the mirror, brow furrowing as he thought. He _did_ look good in black, he realized as he rinsed his mouth. He lay his toothbrush on top of the remnants of packaging, then turned to the toilet.

There was a funny feeling inside of him, one that had sat since he’d been on the couch with Percival, after his embarrassing lack of control hit. Like a balloon was being inflated, and pushing against him, all over the place in an effort to get out. He considered this feeling, how it almost seemed to make his heart light, and in the rush of the flushing toilet tentatively identified it as joy. Elation. And a hundred other words the thesaurus would give him for the core word, _happy_.

It was a different sort than when he helped an animal give birth and watched the newborn slowly orient itself to the outside world. It wasn’t the same as the feeling that flooded him when he met Theseus at the arrivals lounge in the airport, or when a hard to find book finally arrived in his mailbox. The little voice inside him was whispering another word to him, one far stronger than happy or joy, and though Newt rolled the idea of it around, testing it out, he wouldn’t let himself say it.

At this, the very beginning of their relationship or whatever it was going to be, he didn’t want to get his hopes up, or cast aspirations that may never be reached, so that the relationship fell short and was stuck in a shadow. He would hold onto this feeling, though, and over the course of the next few weeks examine it at his leisure.

Turning the light off behind him, he exited the bathroom and Percival glanced up. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his own bedside lamp the only source of light in the room, flipping through a book. He set it down on the night table and watched Newt watch him.

“I would-“ Newt began just as Percival asked “happy?”, and Newt stopped short. He looked at the man sitting on the bed, eyebrows raised in question, waiting for Newt to continue, but he found that the longer he looked at Percival the more the balloon fought its tether. Was he happy? Yes, and a thousand times more than that, because right in front of him sat a man who had waved away the misconceptions Newt had held about what it meant to be with someone, about himself, and more.

“Newt?” Percival stood and approached him but stopped when Newt took a step back, and turned his gaze to the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “Is everything all right?”

Newt looked back at him, fighting the fluttering of his heart, and said loud and clear, “I would like to kiss you.”

And then stood frozen to the spot, waiting to see what would happen next. There was a very real chance, his inner voice told him, that this was not at all what Percival had meant with all his talk earlier, but it quickly fell silent when he made his way slowly to Newt, dark eyes glittering. He stopped, close enough for Newt to smell the mint toothpaste on his breath, and his heart was positively hammering at their proximity, and as Percival slowly reached a hand up, Newt was faced with a whole host of regrets, and he quickly stammered out, “I-I don’t know exactly _how_ to, per se, and I’m certain I’ll make a, well, a mess of it, but—“

He shut up at the gentle finger pressed to his lips. “You are the only one who is worried about that,” Percival promised, his voice low, eyes fixated on Newt’s. Newt found himself hypnotized by that stare, and stood stock still as Percival leaned in closer, a gentle hand moving through his hair and coming to rest behind his ear, and Newt didn’t know if he should have licked his lips so they weren’t dry, or if he should keep his eyes open or close them, and then his mind shut down.

Percival pressed his lips onto Newt’s, gently at first, and then a bit harder, pulling Newt closer with the hand holding his head. It was warm and soft and vibrant and Newt pushed back, felt Percival’s lips move over his, felt a soft exhale mingle with his own harsh one, and he shyly copied, moving his lips in the way Percival had, and was emboldened when the man didn’t pull away like he had messed up. Newt reached up, wanting to do _something_ with his hands besides have them dangle loosely at his sides, and he placed one on a muscular shoulder, and when Percival still didn’t pull back, brought his other to lay on the chest he had wanted to get better acquainted with for the last five minutes.

The surprised noise escaped unbidden, and Percival pulled back, eyes heavy, panting slightly, and he breathlessly asked “what is it?”

“Your heart,” Newt said in wonder, looking at his hand where it rested still on Percival’s chest. “It’s beating so fast.” Percival smiled, and ran his hand through Newt’s hair.

“That’s all you.” Newt was flush with the knowledge that he, some scrawny, bumbling twig of a man, could have such an effect on someone like Percival.

"I think this will replace the memory of my first kiss," Newt told him, and he swore he saw something close to adoration reflected back to him.

Percival for a moment looked hesitant, almost worried, and Newt felt tense when he said, “I would like to ask you, Newt, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but, would you like to spend the night in my bed with me? Just to sleep next to each other? I promise, that’s all I want, just to have you near.”

Newt smiled at him, the balloon lunging at the walls of its prison, and said, “yes, Percival, I will. I trust you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you are reading this, congratulations on finishing! I hope you enjoyed it, and that perhaps it got you through a long wait at the DMV or something equally tedious.


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